Chuck vs Lockdown
by Doc and Nick
Summary: Set season two. Beckman orders Sarah to move in with Chuck, for his own protection. Written by Doc In Oz and ne71
1. Chapter 1

**Chuck vs Lockdown**

– **AKA –**

**My Two Weeks Living With Sarah**

A dark tale of gothic horror by **ne71** and **Doc In Oz** – (not necessarily in that order)

_**Summary **__– Set during season two, General Beckman orders Sarah to move in with Chuck, and ensure 24 protection of the asset. How hard could that be?_

_**Caution**__, this tale involves 'ladyfeelings' and should not be read by anyone at all. Seriously, look away now. _

_Sadly, it turns out neither of us own Chuck, et al._

* * *

-o0o-

"What was the name of this country again? Transburbanklyvania?"

"Chuck? Quiet. You'll upset the hosts."

"Well, with the set of ears that the count has, he should be used to it by now. I've seen less Vulcan ears at Comic-Con. And, have you ever seen a better Widow's Peak? Seriously, if we search the basement, I'm sure we'll find his coffin."

"Chuck, a lot of people from central European countries have a certain look…"

"Dracula. Vlad, the Impaler. Nosferatu….."

"..that seems to be stereotypica ... aaand you're not helping."

"Well, I'm used to more details when I flash. The data I've got on these guys is like, the last time anything important happened, it was back when Tintin landed on the moon."

"Who the hell is Tinnnn…..evermind, I guess they stopped being noteworthy after the Warsaw Pact bloc fell apart."

"Will the pair of you can it? We have a job to do!"

"Casey, the only trouble the trade mission is facing is the risk that the bribe might not be big enough, and seeing as how this is federally funded, I think it should be safe. No one is at risk of being shot, tonight," he then leaned over, to whisper, "Except for us, from him," he kept his hand over the microphone.

A quick glance at Casey's expression led Chuck to worry that he (Casey) had heard him (Chuck). Or he (back to Casey again) could lip read.

The speech dragged on in Transburbanklyvainian, or whatever the hell he was speaking. There seemed to be a lot of 'Kchrrrrqsh' sounds involved.

Chuck, Sarah and Casey spent the evening as wallflowers at the world's dullest party. And the party was held in some language even Sarah had difficulties following.

-o0o-

Brig. General D. Beckman (USAF) was the reason that team Bartowski were wallflowers at the Los Angeles entry in this years 'World's dullest party' competition. Well, technically Orion (whoever he was) and Fulcrum were the real reason. And Chuck had had a hand in his own demotion too. As soon as he'd discovered that this Orion was one of the creators of the best and worst thing that'd happened to him, keeping in mind that that was up against the whole Stanford situation, Chuck had searched for him.

He'd also foolishly promised her that one day, he'd get this out of his head, and then proceeded to stick his foot so far into his mouth, he tasted knee. He'd told her he would live with the woman he loved. Her shy smile and shoulder bump let him know she got it.

He couldn't help it though. It had been one of those rare moments where she looked at him, and he was sure it was real. All of it. Real. That, or he was reading _way _too much into a shy smile, and a shoulder bump. But as shoulder bumps go, that was one of the most romantic shoulder bumps since the shoulder bump had been invented. Certainly it was in the top five.

And then…

And then he did a little digging on Orion. Well, _that_ went well. There was the impact of something nasty into the rotating helical blades. Because, if Fulcrum and been inconveniently nosy around Burbank before, now they were downright actively investigating Burbank.

A situation, Casey pointed out, that somewhat negated the covert part of covert affairs.

When General Beckman gave the order, Chuck thought she had a tiny twitch of silent glee. It was as if she was doing this just to tick off Casey. And then the words she said sunk in…..

"Agent Walker, using your existing cover as that of girlfriend, you will move in with the asset and provide twenty four hour protection until such time as we determine that Fulcrum is either actively searching for the ass… Chuck, as a means to locate Orion, or, if the recent Fulcrum activity around this team is coincidental." The way she said 'coincidental' made her look as if she'd just sucked on a really sour, sour gummy bear, "If the activity is not coincidental, then we will have a different discussion. So, until that determination, you are _all_ on light duties, effective immediately. You will receive a briefing later today. Good afternoon, team."

She must have had her finger already on the button to cut them off.

Chuck stood not moving, definitely **not** looking at Sarah, as he assimilated the news. He'd just been ordered to live with Sarah. A general of the US military had ordered Chuck to live with the woman he loved. Sarah had just been ordered….

Well, you get the idea. Eventually, so did Chuck. Although, a teeny, tiny part of him recognized that this could either go, really good, or really, really, hippopotamiclly, titanically bad. The kind of bad, that bad poetry or bad fanfiction gets written about.

Sarah Walker stood there, also noticeably, definitely **not** looking at the man beside her, the man she'd just been ordered to move in with. She wore a similar expression to that of a person who's just had that first hint of a suspicion that the potential exists that maybe, just maybe, those lottery numbers on the TV are the same as those on the slip of paper in their suddenly sweaty fingers.

It was either that look, or the one people get when they figure out why the light at the end of the tunnel sounds like it is diesel powered. They're both a surprisingly similar expression.

Casey turned and stomped out of the main ops area. He knew that with his recent luck, this was going to end bad enough that if some idiot were foolish enough to write about it, they could write a lovey crappy doving family friendly sitcom about it. Casey wanted out of there before he got dragged into helping make sure that the bunting didn't clash with the bridesmaids dresses or something. 'Cause that was the only place that this train wreck was headed.

And how come he was involved in this 'light duties' crap? That sounded suspiciously like there was no shooting involved.

'_Great. Terrific,'_ Casey thought. _'I hate this assignment.'_

-o0o-

"Sarah, I'm sorry."

"Chuck, it's okay."

He didn't look satisfied with that effort, and tried again, "Sarah, I'm sorry."

"Chuck, it's okay."

She knew he'd never let it alone. They walked in thoughtful silence back up to the frozen yoghurt department this particular super secret CIA base featured.

He opened his mouth. He got as far as: "Sarah…." before she repeated her: "Chuck, it's okay." This time, with feeling. He closed his mouth, but didn't look happy about it. He wasn't the only one. Sarah wasn't looking forward to it, but she could totally do this. She could move in, and live with an asset.

'_I'm a spy, this was what I do, right? Its not like I'm in love with him,' _she thought._ 'Oh god, please, please, please don't let me ruin anything with him….'_

"Keys!" he suddenly blurted. "We need to get you some spare…. You already have a set, don't you? Well, technically not a set of keys, but you can get…Right. Well, we need to tell Ellie, I guess. And hanging space." He cast his mind back over the past few missions. He wondered just how big her closet actually was, because unless she had the Warner Brothers studio wardrobe department on standby, it had to be pretty big.

He paced back and forth in the Orange Orange. This was a pretty major step in any relationship. And it was a first for him. He'd never lived with… well, technically he did live with his sister. And Devon. But that was different. This was…. everything, and at the same time a horrible parody of everything he wanted. And then he realized, "Oh sweet lord….. Ellie….. she, she's gonna plotz."

Sarah went back to that 'light at the end of the tunnel' expression she'd perfected earlier and realized with growing horror, he was right. Keep the asset calm, "Chuck, it'll be okay. We can…"

"Sarah, you don't know El like I do. Oh god, this'll be ten times worse than Stanf…" he paused in his restless pacing, and stared at her. And then something clicked, and he was suddenly calm.

After a moment, he said with a genuinely peaceful expression, "She loves you, you know." He smiled a little, "She thinks you're the best thing that ever happened to me." He flicked his gaze at his sneakers and then back to her and continued, "She's right, you know. You _are_ the best thing to ever happen to me."

Sarah fought the urge to take a step back and place a hand over her heart. She also found that if she breathed, the tunnel vision and roaring sound went away. She forced her hand back to where it belonged.

He gave a small shrug, the one that is mostly head tilt, and continued, "Not in the way she thinks…."

"Chuck…."

"… but she's right. …. I'll take care of Ellie. Now, what do we need to organize when a super spy comes to stay?"

She blinked. What just happened? How did he go from agitated to calm, just like that? And he was the asset, she was supposed to calm him, not the other way 'round. "Chuck, I ah….. We swing past the hotel, grab my suitcase, and we're done."

"Yeah, closet, I'll have to move some stuff, make space for you."

"Chuck, no, suitcase. That's all," again, he tilted his head at her, this time just like an adorably puzzled lab puppy. "Spy, remember?" she tapped her chest.

"Like I'm ever gonna forget _that_. But you'll still need to hang something in my closet."

"That's gotta be the worst name for a country music song."

"No, I mean….." he stopped and stared at her, suddenly and completely shocked. "Did you….?" He smiled hugely for her and clarified, "I should know better by now, but you never cease to amaze me Agent Sarah Lisa Walker. You just made a joke."

She smiled a little at the chopping board on the counter in front of her and then said, "I _believe_ that it is supposed to work better when someone," a gummy bear kamikazed with sublime accuracy into Chuck's forehead, "doesn't point that out, all the time…..."

"Got it, right. Ow. Don't point out how amazed I am when my amazing fake girlfriend is amazing."

"Um, right, so, why do I need to hang something in your closet?"

"Besides fulfilling my lifelong ambition to live out a country music song?" Chuck dodged the incoming gummy, but he was pretty sure that this time, the thrower had taken it easy on the throwee, "Because Ellie would notice that you've moved in, and are still packed ready to leave in a heartbeat."

"Chuck, that shouldn….. Wait, your sister comes into your room?"

He grinned, "I'm nearly thirty, a little bit nerdy," she made a strangled noise that sounded suspiciously like braying laughter, but he struggled on manfully, ignoring her rude interruption, "and I live with my sister. At what point did that surprise you? She's my sister. She might," he paused to think frantically of something, "dust….. sometimes….."

Sarah smirked at him, "Oh my god, she still does your laundry, doesn't she?"

"Um…."

"Chuck, real men know how to open the bottle of Tide."

"Says the woman with access to twenty four hour housekeeping."

"I…I…I use the Laundromat," she said, in a tone of voice that lead Chuck to suspect that she might have driven past one, once, and doing seventy eight at the time.

-o0o-

The trio of spies, well, duo of spies and one nerd who's a little harder to explain, stood, for the most part, heavily armed, protecting their trade mission who were in more danger of death by bored friendly fire from their own protection detail than from the ambassador who was eagerly looking forward to the 'development and infrastructure investment' he'd get from the American businessmen.

The door opened wider than needed, and there stood an all-too-familiar figure in the door frame. One hand held a martini glass. By the stem, Chuck noticed. He held the martini glass aloft, and nodded to the room.

It was a simple move. One that would only take a moment to learn, but would need a lifetime to perfect. Most of the room nodded back.

"Philippe!" the newcomer addressed the host.

The count greeted the man in the doorway like they were old friends. "Roan, my dear fellow, where _have_ you been?"

Casey did not sigh, and muttered, "We're dead."

"A better question would be where haven't I been?" Agent Montgomery uttered as he maneuvered forward like a Roman fighting ship, slowly, and with an enormous turning circle. "And how is that charming young bride of yours? I seem to recall she was looking forward to your being sent to head the Los Angeles mission."

"Yes, sadly she has discovered Rodeo Drive. She will be sorry she missed you."

"A boring business dinner is not the first ….position…. I would think of when I think about your charming countess."

"These guys don't have nukes, do they?" Chuck wanted to know, "Because if Count The Count finds out that Roan and Countess The Count used to…."

"Chuck…" she whispered through gritted teeth.

"Noo-ooo, I think it's pronounced…..."

"Chuck!" she didn't whisper.

"Charles! Sarah! And….. Um….. Frank!" Agent Montgomery suddenly recognized the wallflowers. "Philippe, Dianne must think very highly of you indeed," he indicated the agents standing backs to the wall, all wishing desperately to be elsewhere, "These are the best of the best!"

Count Philippe looked a little disconcerted at this, "Is there a change in status? You assured me that all of this was routine."

"It is, it is. Just let me have a moment to confer with my…. people."

Montgomery whipped around to face Sarah, she being the prettier of the available spies. Unfortunately, 'whipping around' after that seventh martini stopped being nimble about five martinis ago.

"Oh, dear, um…"

"Perhaps you should have a seat, Roan." She signaled to Chuck, and together they helped Roan sit down.

He was still looking a little unsteady on his feet, despite the obvious fact he was no longer actually on his feet.

"Thank you, my dear." He burped gently and continued, "Philippe is correct, what, why would Dianne assign you lot to something even the Girlscouts would have trouble messing up."

"Good question," growled Casey, glaring at the person he thought was to share a large portion of the blame. He was right too. Casey moved off to cover the east side of the room. Casey also suggested that Chuck work the north side. Casey suggested this silently, and with a single angry nod of the head.

Chuck reluctantly left his spy fake girlfriend with the former legend.

She said to Roan, "Um, there's been some activity, so we need to work a lower profile than normal, that's all,"

Roan looked around, wondering what had happened to his drink, and his cigarette. He said, "Its funny, for us, a lower profile means either deep, deep cover, or working puff pieces like this. Speaking of puff pieces, have you …."

"We're indoors now, Roan. You can't smoke inside…."

"No, no. Heavens, even I know that. No, what I was about to ask is, how is the cavorting proceeding?"

"I'm not cavorting….."

"Well, how did he go with the Montgomery?"

"The what?"

"The Montgomery," Roan enunciated, humbly, "I told him to turn up in a white dinner jacket, with a bottle of semi-reasonable red and a single…."

She goggled, if goggled is the right word to use when spy ninjas are involved. "Oh, god. It was a ….."

"….Disaster, yes. Why does that not surprise me?"

"Roan, I'm not in love…."

"Agent Walk… Sarah. May I tell you a story?" he interrupted her, and continued assuming her permission, "Shortly before the Second World War, and this has a slightly anti-Semitic theme to it, but please, indulge me. Before the war, the German populous had a saying, that the more a business advertised itself as being proudly Cher-man, the less German the owners actually were." He paused to study her, "There is an element of truth to that. Tell me again, of your feelings towards our young Charles over there…."

"I'm not…"

Roan smiled to himself. The lady doth protest even more.

After Roan reassured Philippe that all was normal, and to not cancel the deal, the rest of the evening went boringly well.

-o0o-

Chuck had had a bad night.

Not a single wink of sleep. There was an extremely good reason for that.

Her name was Sarah. And she had slept, evidently very soundly by the way, at a distance that ranged between two inches to a foot away from him, since they got home from the Buttphraqistan, or wherever, embassy.

When she said, "Good morning, Chuck," in her slightly raspy morning voice, he looked at her as she got up out of bed, and realized that her morning greeting felt like it was the most natural thing in the world. _And_ it looked like she'd had a decent night's sleep, too.

It was bad enough that she was dressed, and just quietly, 'dressed' barely covers the way she was dressed, or to express the reaction that her ensemble created. There was some sort of bright pink, lacy, hot pant type of underpant, and a tank top that was, well, there were a couple of pointers that indicated it was skin tight. So her ensemble was really, only just a little bit more revealing than, that painted on 'outfit' that that hideously expensive coconut water company paints on the pretty girls they use in their advertising. And expensive coconut water people would be lucky to have a girl as pretty as Sarah.

Last night, Chuck had had that moment where he distinctly felt his eyeballs pop out and then roll across the floorboards when she walked into the bedroom after her bathroom visit to get changed. After that, he then he had that moment where he offered vital parts of his anatomy if this moment could be done for real every night, despite the consideration that if he _truly_ wanted this moment to be done for real every night, he might want to keep a hold of a couple of those vital anatomy portion(s).

As the morning sun haloed her golden hair, she gazed down at him for a few moments, while he still white knuckled the sheet up near his neck, and then she asked him if he was getting up for breakfast. She seemed to find his predicament mildly amusing.

Chuck eventually decided he did have to get up at some stage. Go out into the world, fight evil or solve computer related problems for the current plethora of middle aged housewives, who should never, ever, be allowed near a computer, who have believed that e-mail about the evil menace of the 'grey teddy bear,' thus enabling the do-it-yourself Polish Virus.

Honestly, there were days when Chuck believed that joke about the broken cup holder, or the one about how the customer couldn't see the back of the computer, because it was so dark.

Chuck stumbled to the breakfast table, sadly now located in a room on loan from some alternate universe, one that seemed to be inhabited by freakishly good looking and disgustingly happy people. Everyone in the room, save himself, showed more exposed skin than should be allowed before that first cup of coffee. His sister hugged him, still bubbling with joy. Sarah even smiled at him in that way that he normally only saw fleetingly, and usually only after he'd done something spectacular, or as Casey usually described it – stupid, she smiled at him happily.

Devon took one look at the exhausted and distinctly blurry 'round the edges looking Chuck, and compared him to the practically radiant Sarah, and then whispered, "Awesome!" loud enough for everyone to hear, along with the surreptitious 'thumbs-up' that everyone could see. Devon then insisted that, "Here, drink this, dude. Doctors orders. It'll replace the zinc and," he winked at Chuck, "other things you used up last night."

Chuck suspiciously eyed the very tall, very large glass of 'green and gloppy' that Devon handed him.

His stomach gave him fair warning.

And then his sister nudged the woman he loved, and the pair of them shared a smile, before returning their attention to this morning's entertainment – that of Chuck attempting a standing chug-a-lug of cold 'green and gloppy' while displaying the outward signs of the dry heaves.

Chuck drank. Not quite in Olympic time. But, he downed it. And just like yucky cough syrup, he needed to get it down in one go. If he stopped, there was no way he'd ever be able to start again.

After a nervous few minutes, it stayed down, but it was a near thing.

Sarah theatrically silently applauded his manly effort, with a huge smile for him. "My hero," she said.

After the family turned to attend the regular breakfast, Sarah began frantically thinking to herself, _"You are not in love with Chuck Bartowski. You cannot fall in love with the asset. Do not allow his smile to do that to your knees. You can do this, control of the asset is easy. Piece of cake, remember? Oh, god, please, please don't let me ruin anything with him…..'_

She and Chuck helped Ellie and Devon with breakfast.

-o0o-

_**Deep Voiced Man: **__Chuck vs Lockdown will return after these messages. This episode was brought to you by, well, me. _

_Nick? Tag, you're It._


	2. Rage Against the Penguins

"We need to talk."

"Ah. Fantastic. Every man's favorite four words."

"Chuck, I'm serious. Casey's going to be back in a minute, and—"

"I wonder, though – if we work at it, I bet we can come up with four words men hate more."

"Chuck, please—"

"'I have a boyfriend,' for the single man…"

"I'm not playing along with this, Chuck."

"'I threw it out,' for the married guy looking for his prized mail-in edition Boba Fett action figure…"

"Seriously, Casey is going to be here any second, and we need to talk about—"

"There's always the classic 'I've got a headache;' that one transcends marital status…"

"Will you stop talking for two seconds and let me—"

"'Is it in yet?' Not that I've, you know, ever heard that one before…"

"Chuck! Listen to me! We only have a few minutes to talk about this before—"

"Before what?"

Chuck and Sarah turned to see Casey, standing in front of them with a bag of popcorn and a "March of the Penguins" tee shirt.

**Chuck vs Lockdown**  
**- AKA -**  
**My Two Weeks Living With Sarah**  
**Chapter Two**  
**Rage Against the Penguins**

Chuck burst out in laughter that, to a casual observer, didn't sound forced at all. Sarah, her bad mood forgotten for a moment, smirked at Casey.

"That your idea of undercover attire?"

Casey shrugged. "The idea's to blend in. I'm a tourist."

"Really," she said. "Because someone in the know might suspect that you're not taking our assignment seriously."

Chuck, finally over his laughing fit, chimed in. "Sarah, we're standing outside the penguin exhibit at the Los Angeles Zoo. None of us should even be considering the possibility of taking this seriously."

"I'm taking it seriously," Sarah said, folding her arms in front of her chest.

"Please," Casey scoffed. "Since when does anyone wear all black to the zoo?"

Two teenagers walked past, eying Sarah up and down. After they had taken a few steps away, one called over his shoulder.

"Loved you in the Matrix."

Sarah sneered at them, and they took off running. She looked back at Casey's smug grin. "Shut up," she sighed.

"So, can we just ditch this one?" Chuck asked. "Maybe actually have a nice day at the zoo instead of standing around for no good reason?"

"Orders are orders, Bartowski."

"Oh, I know that. Except the 'orders,'" Chuck made finger quotes to emphasize his point, "in this case, are clearly just busy work that doubles as a way for us to stay out of trouble. An anonymous tip that leaves us on a penguin stakeout? Seriously? I mean, do you really think this Andov Lea character is stupid enough to smuggle a data chip into the country through a flightless waterfowl? That's something of a larger suspension of disbelief than the usual—" Chuck stopped talking, and his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

"Oh you have got to be kidding me," Sarah muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.

-o0o-

FIVE MINUTES LATER

Sarah dug her knee deeper into Andov Lea's back as she wiped furiously at the sleeve of her jacket. "This is leather, you dick."

"Am terribly sorry. Penguin guano very hard to clean," the Soviet agent said with surprising sincerity.

Casey waved the gathering crowd away. "Nothing to see here, folks. Move along."

A middle-aged man turned to his wife as they walked away. "Why do you think Olivia Newton John is sitting on Yakov Smirnoff?" Sarah glared at them as they shuffled off. Chuck approached her tentatively.

"Sorry about tripping him like that," he said, sheepishly.

"You did that on purpose?"

"Well, I didn't think he was going to fall right on you. And I certainly didn't think you were going to fall into a pile of—" Sarah's glare heated up a few degrees. "—that," Chuck gulped.

"Again, am very sorry," Lea said. "But on bright side, chase was filled with wacky American hijinks. Almost made capture worth it," he smiled.

Chuck looked at Sarah. "I know you're upset, but are you listening to this guy? I mean, he is absolutely precious."

Sarah darted her eyes at Casey, who was trying to convince a tourist to put his camera away. "Chuck," she said, under her breath. "When Casey takes him away, we really need to talk about what happened."

Chuck glanced around nervously. "What, like right here? In front of the penguins?"

"I don't give a rat's ass about the penguins, Chuck!"

Casey grabbed Lea by the scruff of the neck and hauled him to his feet as Sarah finally stood up. "If either of you two intend to continue disparaging the noble Aptenodytes Forsteri, you're going to have to do it outside of my earshot," he growled. "I'm going to hand Boris here over to the feds." With that, he stormed off, Lea in tow. Chuck stared after Casey for a long time before finally turning back to Sarah.

"Casey loves penguins."

"Don't change the subject."

"I'm just saying that if you had to pick one member of this team to have an unreasonable amount of admiration for penguins-" Chuck cocked his head and pointed both index fingers at himself.

"Chuck, I'm not normally an advocate of violence, but if you don't start taking this conversation seriously I'm going to punch you. I'm going to punch you in your stupid head."

Chuck sputtered. "Not an advocate of—are you serious? You're 50% of the most violent people I know!"

"Chuck…"

"You named your fists 'Punchy' and 'Punchier!'"

"Chuck."

"_Honey badgers_ narrate videos of _you_!"

"CHUCK!"

Chuck finally stopped. Sarah had taken a step forward and was now standing right in front of him, fists clenched at her sides, a furious expression on her face. He should have been terrified, but only one thought crossed his mind at that moment. Unfortunately, once it crossed his mind it kept strolling right out of his mouth.

"You're cute when you're angry, know that?"

"OH MY GOD! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU, CHUCK BARTOWSKI! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU, CHOP YOU UP INTO LITTLE PIECES, AND FEED YOU TO PIGS! THEN I'M GOING TO NAME EACH ONE OF THE PIGS AFTER YOU, RAISE THEM TO MATURITY, SLAUGHTER THEM, AND MAKE BACON OUT OF THEM! THEN I'M GOING TO FEED THAT BACON TO A MOLDOVIAN WARLORD, KILL _HIM_, COOK HIM ON A SPIT AND EAT HIM! I'M GOING TO EAT A BARTOWSKI BACON-STUFFED MOLDOVIAN WARLORD, CHUCK! YOU'RE GOING TO MAKE ME DO THAT! THAT'S WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO ME, AND IT'S ALL BECAUSE YOU'RE A STUPID, INSUFFERABLE IDIOT WHO HAS THE ATTENTION SPAN OF A RETARDED GERBIL!"

_Yep_, Chuck thought. _Still cute._ Not wanting to be fed to pigs, however, he kept this revelation to himself. He opened his mouth to respond, but noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Chuck turned to look, and Sarah turned to see what he was looking at.

A few feet away, a solitary, slack-jawed teacher was covering the ears of one of the kindergarteners in her care. Unfortunately, the other nineteen children had gotten the full benefit of Sarah's rant. Their wide-eyed expressions were evidence of that.

The teacher, realizing that Sarah was done detailing the many deaths of Chuck Bartowski, finally took her hands away from the little girl's ears. The girl smiled and turned to her teacher.

"Ms. O'Scanlin?" she asked sweetly.

"Yes, Violet?"

"Is that Tinkerbell?"

Ms. O'Scanlin looked at Sarah, then back at Violet. "Honey, if there's one thing in the world I'm sure of, it's this: That is not Tinkerbell." She herded the children back in the direction they came, against protests that they'd already seen the lemurs.

Chuck turned back to Sarah. They both had stunned expressions on their faces. Chuck opened his mouth to speak, but Sarah silenced him with an outheld palm.

"Chuck," she said, her voice shaking, "if you say something right now – if you say a single word, make a single sound – if you breathe louder than absolutely necessary, I will not be responsible for my actions. Please, please believe me when I say that there is nothing cute or comical about the beating I will give you."

Chuck, contrary to recent allegations, possessed more intelligence than a mentally challenged rodent. He closed his mouth. Sarah looked grateful.

"Thank you, Chuck."

Chuck nodded his head.

"I'm going to go stand over there for an indeterminate amount of time. It is not safe for you to follow me." Sarah didn't wait for any kind of confirmation from Chuck. She merely walked stiffly to the other side of the exhibit. Chuck waited until she was out of earshot to start breathing again.

-o0o-

Chuck shifted a little in the passenger seat of Casey's Crown Vic, watching as Sarah sped off in her Porsche. The black sports car shuddered with what Chuck could only imagine were warranty-threateningly violent shifts of the gears.

"She sure did dump you off in a hurry," Casey said as he steered down the road. "What the hell happened with you two last night?"

Chuck glanced sideways at Casey. "You don't know?"

Casey shrugged. "Word came down to shut off the surveillance while Walker's there with you," he replied. "She didn't tell you?"

Chuck shook his head and looked back out through the windshield as the Porsche shrunk to a tiny dot and then disappeared against the sunset. "No," he said. "She didn't tell me."

"So, what was it, then?"

_Since that morning, if he'd closed his eyes and concentrated, he could distinctly remember the feel of Sarah's back pressed tightly against his chest: the pressure of her shoulder blades, the slope of her lower back, the warmth and the realness of her. Every night since the full-time detail had started, she'd inched closer and closer, until finally they'd woken up without a gap between them. He knew the moment consciousness hit him that she was awake, that she could feel her own version of what he was feeling, and that she wasn't moving away. Chuck knew that there would be a few seconds – a window of opportunity – that were available for him to release her, to make believe it was all unintentional, to go back to the routine and the dodging and the denials. He had just a moment, and found himself watching that moment go right by. _

_His hand, clasped around her shoulder, moved slowly up to the side of her face to brush her hair back behind her ear. He could see then her parted lips, her teeth touched together, her brow furrowed over closed eyes. He used his other arm, positioned under her head, to pull her even closer, to press her small frame even tighter to his chest. When she breathed in deep, he brushed his hand down her arm, sliding it down to rest on her thigh. He tilted his head and gently kissed her ear. _

"_Chuck," she said, her voice heavy with strain. _

"_Sarah," he breathed. _

"_Chuck," she said again, this time louder. "Please stop." _

_The machinery ground to a halt, and the room suddenly seemed unearthly quiet. Chuck relaxed his hold on her, felt her move a fraction of an inch away. It was enough. _

"_Casey's bugs?" he asked in a whisper. _

_Sarah turned slowly to face him, her eyes burning into his. She stayed that way for a long moment, looking at him unflinchingly, until she finally nodded yes. _

A bump in the road brought Chuck back to the present.

"Well?" Casey growled.

"Nothing," Chuck said, staring out the windshield. "Nothing happened."

-o0o-

The sun had slipped completely below the horizon by the time Casey pulled into the parking lot. Chuck got out of the car and spotted Sarah's Porsche in the guest section. Casey, perhaps not wanting to break the streak of silence Chuck had going on, grunted a goodnight and disappeared into his apartment.

Chuck walked slowly into the courtyard, pausing at the fountain. He looked at the darkened windows of the apartment he shared with Ellie (and now Sarah) and sighed.

It hadn't been the bugs, then. No one was listening in that morning, and Sarah knew it. So she'd stopped him for another reason entirely. And the conversation she'd been trying to have all day? The one he'd been avoiding out of simple awkwardness? It was a conversation they'd really needed to have.

So there she was, inside his apartment, probably in his bedroom, waiting to talk. Maybe to finally put all of the aforementioned dodging and denials aside and face this thing – whatever it was – head on. All Chuck had to do was go in.

After three false starts, several failed internal pep talks, and losing count of how many of his favorite comic book superheroes would have just walked inside, Chuck finally moved to the door. He unlocked and opened it, turning on the small lamp by the door and taking a moment to look around.

Outside of the bedroom, the apartment showed few signs of Sarah's presence. A pair of her shoes sat by the front door. A purse hung on the doorknob of the hall closet. A fishbowl with a tiny goldfish sat on the kitchen counter, and—

A neatly folded blanket and pillow lay on the couch.

Chuck stared at the blanket and pillow for a moment, then at his closed bedroom door. He slowly made his way to the couch, draping the blanket across the back and placing the pillow at the far end. He kicked off his shoes, lay down, and rested his head on the pillow. There was a feeling in his stomach that he couldn't quite identify. Was it disappointment? Or was it relief?

Chuck's eyes slid shut, and before he could answer his own question he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

_That's right. A couple pages of penguins, Russians, and imaginative death threats for you to nibble on, and then bam! I'll have a supersized helping of unresolved sexual tension, please. Extra angst if you have some in the fridge. _

_If you liked this chapter, thank **Doc in Oz** for turning out such a great first chapter that I over-thought every line. And if you didn't like this chapter… well, I'd like for you to somehow blame Doc for that, too. _

_So, halfway though writing this, I decided to do a fact check to see if the Los Angeles Zoo has penguins. Guess what? _

_The Los Angeles Zoo does not have penguins. _

_But I had that part written, and there isn't a single animal I find nearly as entertaining as penguins, so the hell with it. In the alternate universe where it's possible for a human being to have an entire database worth of government secrets imprinted onto his brain via a series of encoded images, that version of the Los Angeles Zoo has penguins. Because I said so. _

_John, I may have skinned a knee, but consider the serve returned. _


	3. LAX cheese

**Doc's note** – I believe I need to quote the late mayor of Hiroshima, "What the hell was that?" Sorry, folks, you're back to me for this chapter. My 'umble apologies, but there are no penguins or Moldavian warlords in this chapter.

**Chuck vs Lockdown**

– **AKA –**

**My Two Weeks Living With Sarah**

.

– Chapter three –

.

"…This bloke won't 'aggle!"

Monty Python: The Life Of Brian

.

* * *

Sarah smiled up at him. She said with deep satisfaction, "I need to tell you, I love you. I should have told you a long time ago. I love you and I've always loved you, Chuck."

That was the point when Chuck knew he was dreaming.

It also sort of explained the penguin chorus line, low kicking in the back ground. A pity about that. The television rights alone would have paid for the wedding….

But it was a dream, so the wedding was off. Dream-Chuck sighed, Sarah looked absolutely stunning in her wedding dress.

And Awake-Chuck would have to have a little chat with his subconscious, to get the story behind why the German Sheppard version of Lester was standing where the priest, or celebrant would stand, dressed in white, with a cable knit jumper (and the words 'Saskatchewan Second XI' embroidered on it), a pair of serious shin pads and holding a cricket bat,

And that was when he heard the screaming coming from his bedroom. Which led to his being crash tackled by Sarah. But seeing as how she was dressed for sleep, it was mostly worth it.

It was probably all due to the cheese.

-o0o-

"This has to be the coolest slide rule I've ever seen!"

"Knock it off, moron. You're supposed to be an airline pilot. That means you've seen a wiz wheel before," Casey growled under his breath. Casey, Chuck and Sarah were all dressed in pilot's uniforms. Stick Sarah Walker into a pilot uniform, thought Chuck, there was a way to blend in, and not be noticed. Oh well, it could have been worse, and have her stuck in a trampy version of the Nerd Her…. Chuck shook his head, he needed to clear his head and not think abou….

Chuck reluctantly slid the aluminum disc that called itself a 'flight computer' back into the case full of maps and things. When he sat back up, and picked up his coffee cup, he said, "You _do know_ that Osama Bin Laden doesn't have a medical appointment today. Or if he does, it sure aint in Beverly Hills. This is a complete and total waste of time."

"Chuck…. Sometimes you just have to follow….."

"Woftam. See? I've just created a new acronym. Waste of time and money."

"…orders. Chuck? Please, we're supposed to be…" she leaned over to whisper, "….discreet. You know? Undercover and all that?"

"I think you skipped a letter in that acronym," said Casey after counting on his fingers for a bit.

"Yeah, well, I was trying to be discreet, you know," he paused to look at Sarah, "….not have a video go viral," he grinned when her face darkened as she stared at him. "And there are kids within earshot," he smiled even broader at the frazzled and exhausted looking couple with seven kids in tow as they went past, "You know, Hallmark needs to make a 'I'm sorry I traumatized your whole family and or kindergarten class' card."

She leaned over, and whispered into his right ear, "You bank an awful lot on being in public when you do this."

He leaned back, and turned to face her. She didn't move, so their lips were just millimeters apart, and after a moment he said, "Yep," smugly.

Casey pinched the bridge of his nose, and muttered to himself, "Please make this stop. The cameras are off, so for the love of Regan, just…..."

The three of them were sitting at a table outside a coffee shop in the food court of Los Angeles International airport. They were watching the passing populous, searching for Bin Laden, the international boogey man, presumably expected to be dressed in traditional robes and carrying the traditional Kalashnikov.

Chuck tried to be a glass-half-full guy, "Well, it got me," he moved to indicate Casey as well, "….us, out of the Buy More for the day." Not wanting to leave an annoyed CIA fake live-in girlfriend out of the picture, he nodded to Sarah, "Or have sticky, yogurt covered fingers all day. But this is a complete, and total….Ga…"

Even though she was still mad at him, she asked, "Chuck did you just flash?"

"…ng, yeah…." he groaned. The flashing was getting painful.

"How many's this?" asked Casey.

"Six. Chuck, what did you see?"

"Drug dealer in the Pink Floyd tee shirt," he blinked, trying to recover normality, what ever that was.

"Pink _who_ tee shirt?"

"Floyd. The shirt with the prism and light spectrum picture on it. Got him, I'll pass it on to the DEA" said Casey as he used the hidden camera to take a photo of the drug lord.

Sarah checked Chuck's watch by simply grabbing his wrist and turning it so she could see it. Chuck was used to being used like this by now, and kept that expression he showed for her out of tradition. "Almost time," she said.

This would make the third time they moved coffee shops. At some stage, they'd have to stop drinking coffee.

After moving to another franchised coffee shop, Casey and Sarah set up observation, and it was Chuck's turn to buy the coffee.

Picking up the little cardboard tray of what passed as the closest thing to just basic coffee, Chuck turned around to head back to Casey and Sarah. That was when he tripped over the short woman who'd been standing behind him.

"Ow!" she cried as she wore most of one of the cups of coffee. Chuck's cup, as it turned out.

"Jeez! Oh, oh god, I'm sorry, I didn't see you d….d…. I didn't see you there."

"Down here, you mean?" she smiled up at Chuck, as she dried the worst of the coffee off with one of Chuck's serviettes.

"Um… Oh my god, you… you… you're…."

"…that short actress from Obsessive County. Yeah, hi. And you are a really, really tall pilot."

"Um…" seemed to be the safest thing for Chuck to say.

"Air America, huh?" she said as she placed her hand just under the airline name on his chest. In the backgrond, there was a minor comotion as someone female growled and there was the sound of a chair falling over from about ten feet away, but the shortish woman ignored that, "I thought that was the CIA cover in that film."

"Um…. Well, that was a while ago. I'm n..n…nothing to do with the CIA." Chuck said, thinking that went pretty well, except for the getting faster as he went along. Chuck desperately didn't look in Sarah's direction. Because he might see what he was worried he'd probably see.

And then, completely randomly, the short woman with hair like licorice asked, "Do you like cheese?"

"Um, wha…?" part of Chuck, a teeny tiny part, waaaay at the back, realized he might have to come up with something better than 'um' at some stage.

"My sister owns a deli. Me, being famous person, can get through customs, no questions. So, and I probably shouldn't tell you this, but she gets me to smuggle stuff like pastrami into the country. Do you like cheese?"

"Cheese," said Chuck, trying to show he was keeping up.

"Blue cheese, actually. I've got enough to stink a battle ship. Want some?"

And with that, Chuck was back to, "Um."

And then she opened her carry on bag, and handed over a package of what would eventually turn out to be a pretty nice blue cheese. After writing her phone number on it. He made sure the cheese was removed from any phone numbers before he returned to the table.

During the rest of the day, Chuck flashed another seven times. None of them on Bin Laden, who apparently missed his appointment, assuming he had one. The most memorable flash involved a Hollywood personage and allegations of gerbil abuse involving amphetamine.

-o0o-

He beamed her **the** smile, that special 'Chuck' smile that he saved just for her and for her alone. The bad guys were taken care of, and the man who was her mission was the reason they were taken care of. She relaxed into the grateful smile more than she normally allowed herself. He held out his hand for her, and she took it.

She was close, she knew it. Almost, she was ready, and when she looked into his eyes, she knew that the moment was there. He knew, and he'd always known….

The sniper's bullet killed him almost instantly. The red mist spattered across his face and hers, and he had the look of pain and confusion in his eyes. The force of the bullet pushed his ribcage in, and he grunted involuntarily. He fell backwards, toppling like a felled tree, his fingers slipping through hers.

She screamed.

All her training left her, and she just stood there, screaming with so much force, that almost no sound was made.

"Sarah?"

It was his voice, but it couldn't be. He was dead. She wanted to _hurt_ someone, they'd taken him from her…..

Someone was shaking her, "Sarah?" came his voice again.

She threw herself at her attacker, she was furious! He was dead! Someone had killed him before she could say the words, and he was gone!

She attacked the thoughtless imbecile who dared disturb her grief. She brought her foe to the ground effortlessly, and began to pummel his tall frame…. Tall…. There was curly hair…. And he fought back ineffectively…..

_Oh crap on a cracker!_

"….Chuck?... I thought…."

"You okay? Sarah, you were kinda freaking out there for a moment."

She nodded, not yet trusting her voice.

And then she realized that she was straddled over the top of him, the both of them on the floor, halfway in the hallway. He must have heard her, and come into the bedroom. He'd come to help her, to save her. And she'd attacked…..

"Bad dream?" he guessed, as they both separated and he sat up on the floor, as if this was where he normally sat at roughly three in the morning.

Again, she nodded. She wasn't quite certain what to do. If she got up and sat on the bed, she'd have to at least invite him to sit on his own bed.

"Sarah, it was a dream. Just a stupid bad dream, right?" he said rubbing his chest from where she'd hit him.

"Because you never stay in the car!" she declared angrily.

He grinned annoyingly, "Sarah, the airport mission? I had to leave the car, so I could be with you. We had the pilot's uniforms, and everything. An alleged sighting of Bin Laden flying out of Turkmenistan for an appointment at the Mayo, remember?"

She glared at him, "That's not what I mean, and you know it!"

He sat there, not moving, not wanting to upset her more. He didn't know what to do with her, but he knew that if he said anything now, it would make things worse.

"Chuck, you **never** listen to orders, you're the most an… and then you go and get yourself stupidly killed! And any damned jez… You have to stay focused, Chuck!"

After a moment, he couldn't help himself, he grinned a little and asked, "Were you about to say, 'Jezebel?'"

"Don't change the subject."

"I'm sensing nuns at some stage in your earlier education. The angry kind, the ones with rulers."

"Aaargh! You're still doing it! Until I met you, that was the worst three days of my life."

"Three days, huh? Your dad was scamming a convent school?"

"One of the parents. Stop changing the subject."

"Well, I'm obviously not dead," he pointed out with infuriating logic.

"That can be arranged, buster," said she, betwixt gritted teeth. "Moldavian warlord, remember? They'll never find your body."

"So, to prove your nightmare correct, you'd kill me? Aren't you supposed to be protecting me? Remember, lock down and all that?"

"Accidents can happen, Chuck. A dangerous place, this," she waived her hand at the outer darkness, indicating the rest of the apartment, "Did you know that ninety percent of all accidents happen within the confines of the home, Chuck?"

"So, what? I was cleaning three of your throwing knives, and they 'went off?'" he couldn't quite resist the urge to air quote.

"See? You're getting the ide…a….. How….. how did you know I have three knives on me?"

"Lucky guess. That, and they stick out when you spoon." He hesitated, and got up, holding his hand out to her, tentatively. She took it and he helped her up. "And I miss that. I miss…I miss us. I'm sorry I was…..."

They sat on his bed and looked at each other. Something clicked behind his eyes, she saw it, a realization. He looked at his hands and said, "This, this can't be easy for you…"

"…Chuck, I…."

"You know the funny thing? If I'd known the bugs were off, I probably wouldn't have made…. I wouldn't have tried to…"

She froze.

"Yeah, Casey told me. So what do we do?"

She sat there, unable to move. In the end she did nothing.

"I just wish one thing," he said seriously. She was silently cursing Casey, why did he have to go and blurt the truth to Chuck? "I wish I'd known about the nuns while we were at the zoo." He hung his head in resignation.

Wait, nuns? Zoo? "Chuck, what are you….."

"Nuns? Penguins? There's a whole Blues Brothers gag reel there, and I didn't know."

She sat there, mouth agape. He had the chance for something truthful and he wastes it on some movie that was made … "I swear, you have to be the most infuriatin….."

"You're not bad on that yourself, you know?" He said with a grin, before he sighed, "Sarah, what are we going to do?"

"…Chuck…."

"I'll do what you want. I'll…" and he air quoted, "…stay in the car. I just want…. I want us, to be…. be back to the us we were before….I…. I miss that."

And then he looked straight into her eyes, "I miss us." He repeated.

Her lips parted, and an involuntary, "Chuck," escaped.

"Or," he said with a small self-deprecating smile, "can I at least sleep back here? I saved you from a nightmare and everything. I think that rates a 'let my fake boyfriend move back from the couch' pass, at the very minimum."

She smiled shyly and nodded her head saying quietly, "Okay."

Together they repaired the bed cover back to neat and tidy, and they climbed into bed together. Almost instinctively, they wriggled and moved until he was spooned up to her.

Chuck was normally the one who fell asleep first. This time he was the one listening to the deep breathing of someone fast asleep.

It turned out that the blue cheese wasn't done with the pair of them yet. Chuck woke up when she moved and was making chuckling sounds. He was about to roll over and try to sleep when she said distinctly, "Go take a flying f…" she drifted off, and then came back, "…you dwarf skan….." the 'kay' turned into a purring snore.

He hugged her, and kissed the back of her neck saying, "That's my girl."

She held his hand tight to her chest. He fell soundly asleep.


	4. Major Downer

_Sorry for the long delay. When faced with following up on Doc's amazing last chapter, I chose instead to hide under the covers and pretend I was one of those frogs that hibernate for years at a time. _

* * *

**Chuck vs Lockdown**  
**- AKA -**  
**My Two Weeks Living With Sarah**  
**Chapter Four**  
**Major Downer**

**THEN:**

Casey leaned in close to Chuck's face, an expression even more agitated than his default setting on his own. "Flash," he growled.

Chuck shifted his feet a bit and did his best to stand his ground despite the desperate urge to run away from the angry NSA agent. "It really doesn't work that way, Casey. I think you're aware of-"

"I don't care how it works, Bartowski," Casey seethed, bringing a hand up and poking Chuck in the chest with a meaty index finger. "I want you to flash. Now."

"I can't just—"

"You can, and you will. Flash. Get us off the bench. Get us back in action. Do it."

Chuck looked over at Sarah. "A little help?"

Sarah, gazing stormily off at their surroundings, glanced over at Chuck long enough to give a noncommittal shrug. _Great_, he thought. _On my own_.

"Casey, I know you've been a little bored…"

"Bored? Bored doesn't even begin to describe the hell your stupidity-founded exile is causing me. If I don't have something of substance to do soon, I'm going to lose my trademarked lovable charm."

Chuck felt the corner of his mouth beginning to twitch up. He knew that wouldn't be good for anybody, and summoned every once of will to keep a straight face. "For the millionth time, Casey; I'm sorry. If I'd known that going off to look for…" Chuck glanced around before lowering his voice, "_you-know-who_ was going to get us assigned here, I wouldn't have—" At Casey's warning growl, Chuck cleared his throat. "—okay, I probably still would have. But what do you expect me to flash on here?"

"I don't care," Casey said. "Anything. Hell, flash on one of them." He gestured at the current recipients of Sarah's glare. Chuck turned his head automatically, then snapped it back forward and placed a hand up next to his eye like a blinder.

"Who? The…" He glanced around quickly, then leaned in closer to Casey and whispered. "_Strippers_?"

The three were sitting at a table in the sparsely populated club, each with an untouched drink in front of them. After the unintended side effect of identifying over a dozen narcotics traffickers during their last mission, Beckman had ordered them to try a similar tactic at a number of gentleman's clubs in the area. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you view these things), after three different changes in venue, Chuck had yet to flash.

"They prefer 'exotic dancer,' Bartowski." Casey picked up his glass of Johnny Walker, leaned back in his chair, and inhaled the liquid's scent deeply before placing the glass back down. "Special version of hell. Can't drink on the job, surrounded by exploited women, stuck with the skirt and Walker."

"Hey, I caught that, and—" Chuck cocked his head. "Wait a minute – exploited? Really? You're not a fan of strip clubs?"

Casey shrugged. "I find the objectification of women to be distasteful."

Chuck stared at Casey for a long time before finally turning to Sarah.

"Casey's a feminist."

Sarah continued her icy glare at the women performing. She'd done that since they walked into this club, and Chuck hadn't had the nerve to ask her what was wrong. Since their tentative truce, Things had warmed a bit between them, but Sarah was still something of a minefield, and Chuck was doing his best not to tap dance.

**NOW:**

She feels like maybe this is it; that things are finally getting back to normal, or whatever their version of normal is.

Huddled in the back of the surveillance van – she and Casey helping each other into their tactical gear, Chuck taking control of the wireless cameras – she allows herself a glimmer of hope that maybe this is what will propel them out of this strange limbo and back into their comfort zone. One good mission, and maybe Beckman will put them back into full-time action, back to the way things were before the lockdown.

She tries not to think about how pathetic that is, to be longing for the limbo they were in prior to this particular limbo.

They test the comms, check the cameras, and with an all clear from Chuck, she slides the door open to let Casey out. He moves like a bulldog on attack, eager for this, for any kind of release. She feels it, too, but forces herself to pause for a moment. She catches Chuck's eye and winks.

He smirks a bit and nods. There's something missing in the gesture. It's not the same thing for him.

Sarah pushes that to the back of her head, gets herself into the right state of mind, and jumps out of the van.

**THEN:**

"Chuck?"

Chuck winced, and followed the familiar monotone voice to its source. "Jeff?"

Sure enough, Jeff Barnes was standing a foot away from their table, gazing slack-jawed at the approximate areas around the three. "Yep," he confirmed, nodding slightly. Chuck found himself unintentionally nodding back.

"What are you doing here?" Chuck asked.

"I never miss Kardashian lookalike night at the Emperor," Jeff stated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Chuck's retort died on his tongue when he realized something. Kardashian lookalike strippers? That would mean that they were all…

Chuck finally took a good look at all three dancers on stage, and realized why Sarah was so angry. Three naked brunettes, gyrating a few feet away from them. Sarah's own version of being waterboarded. But before Chuck could suggest they leave:

"Dude… you brought your sister to a strip club?"

Sarah took a three-second vacation from glaring at the dancers to glare at Jeff. Casey snorted.

"Jeff, that's my girlfriend. Sarah. You've met her dozens of times. She looks nothing like my sister, and their names are in no way similar."

"Yeah, well…" Jeff squinted in Sarah's general vicinity, and then looked blearily back at Chuck. "She doesn't look happy, either." Jeff looked at Sarah again, and an odd expression of determination settled on his face. "I'm gonna do something about that." He rose unsteadily to his feet and stumbled off. Chuck sighed with relief.

"Let's hope that the simple act of leaving was Jeff's version of cheering you up," he said, smiling. Sarah didn't return the expression.

Chuck turned to Casey. "Why don't we get to the next place before he comes back?" he suggested.

Casey shrugged and stood up, looking longingly at his wasted glass of whiskey. Chuck began to offer Sarah his hand to help her out of her seat when the dancer behind her turned around, and Chuck caught a glimpse of her lower back tattoo.

Sarah stood, watching Chuck's eyes roll back in his head, and followed his line of sight to the dancer on stage. When she turned back to Chuck, Sarah regarded him with what could only be described as barely restrained contempt.

"Chuck?" She growled. "Did you just flash… on a _tramp stamp_?"

**NOW:**

She knows right away that it's a bust.

Their first sign should have been the cameras showing the place as empty, but wouldn't it have just been their luck if the office building had some kind of hidden underground chasm with an enormous Fulcrum planning convention going on? She'd open a file cabinet or Casey would flip a light switch, and some huge door would open up, and there would be every major Fulcrum leader within a thousand miles, sitting there waiting to be rounded up. They'd bring them all in, Beckman would declare the danger over, and they'd be able to come back up from the underground, where she and Chuck could go back to their emotional square dance.

At some point about twenty minutes in, Sarah finally has to let go of that little fantasy.

It's a bust, all right. Like Chuck had said, the intel was old and the place is deserted now. And as the forecast for their exile stretches even further out in Sarah's mind, she hears static in her ear and then nothing at all. She immediately looks over at Casey, whose expression shows that his comm is dead as well.

**THEN:**

Casey and Sarah leaned in closer to Chuck as he relayed the information from the flash.

"The woman's name is Lauren LeFranc, a.k.a. Allison Adler, a.k.a. Kristin Newman. Couple minor offenses – shoplifting and public intoxication, mostly."

"So why do we care?" Casey asked.

"Because she also shows up as a known associate of Tommy Delgado."

Sarah furrowed her brow. "You flashed on a Fulcrum girlfriend."

Chuck shrugged. "Intel on her is pretty old, but there are a couple of surveillance photos of her frequenting an office building a couple miles from here. It's a long shot, but Tommy might have set that up as a civilian cover."

Casey grimaced. "That's a real long shot."

Sarah elbowed him. "You were begging him a couple minutes ago to flash; he flashed."

Casey looked for a moment like he was going to argue back, but instead scrubbed a hand over his face. "Okay. Let's check it out."

Sarah beamed for the first time in what seemed like forever. Chuck felt at odds about it – on one hand, he was happy to see her enthusiastic again. But he couldn't help the thought that this was something Sarah needed, something she craved in her life, something he could never provide if they were just a regular couple – that just he would never be enough.

He shook those thoughts away and focused on the mission.

"I'm in," Chuck said. "Let's get out of here."

Just as the three turned to leave, Jeff was suddenly in front of them with a woman in tow.

"Jill," Jeff slurred, gesturing at Sarah, "This is Jasmine." Jeff stiffly swiveled his arm back at Jasmine, very accidentally on purpose grazing her chest. "She's working her way through law school."

"Of course she is," Sarah muttered.

Jasmine, who had no small number of highway miles, was slightly shorter than Sarah, with long brown hair and several tattoos which Chuck avoided looking at directly. No sense in tempting fate. She sidled up net to Sarah and took hold of her hand. Sarah visibly stiffened at the contact.

"Major Barnes here bought you a deluxe dance, sweetheart," Jasmine cooed in her smoker's voice. "You're one lucky lady."

Sarah sighed resignedly. "That's me," she said. "Lucky Jill."

Chuck didn't even have to look at Casey to know he was mouthing "_Major_ Barnes?"

Jasmine tugged on Sarah's hand, gesturing towards a corner of the club. "Let's go, sugar," she said. "My favorite booth is open."

"Oh, you know what? I'm really okay. You don't have to give me a—"

"If you don't want the dance," Jasmine said brightly, "how about I give it to your friend here?" She raked her eyes up and down Chuck's form. Chuck gulped.

"Let's go." Sarah dragged Jasmine over to the booths.

-o0o-

Twenty minutes later, Sarah still wasn't back. Chuck and Casey were sitting at their table again, Casey running his finger lovingly around the rim of his full glass.

"Man," Chuck said. "The deluxe dance is really _long_. Is it weird that I find it kind of thoughtful of Jeff to go the extra mile like that?"

"I can't believe that idiot assigned himself my rank."

"Well, to be fair, there's no way he could possibly know that you're a—heeeeey, Jeff!" The man in question had mysteriously appeared behind Casey, looking a little more disheveled than usual.

"Hey," he replied, focusing somewhere behind Chuck.

"Kind of surprised that Lester's not here with you."

"Lester finds the objectification of women distasteful."

Chuck smirked at Casey. Casey stood up. "On that note, I'll be in the parking lot." He stalked away. Jeff picked up Casey's glass of whiskey and downed it in one gulp.

"Not bad," he belched, and wandered towards the bathrooms.

Chuck felt a mixture of relief at not having to make awkward conversation with Jeff, and anxiety at sitting in the middle of a strip club alone. But before he had too long to feel awkward, Sarah returned to the table, hair askew and a murderous look on her face. Chuck thought better of telling her that she suddenly smelled very strongly of pineapples.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Is Jeff still here?"

Chuck looked around quickly. "I think he passed out in the men's room. Why?"

"Because if I set eyes on him right now, I can say with absolute certainty that I am going to kill that neanderthal."

**NOW:**

She knows nothing is wrong. Knows it's just equipment malfunction. But she high-tails it back to the van anyway, because Chuck doesn't know that. And when Chuck thinks she's in trouble, there's only one thing Chuck ever does.

And even though it's a foregone conclusion, even though she's positive he's not going to be in there because the tiniest thing went wrong and now she's going to have to go back into the office building and yank him out of some sort of ridiculous situation because he heard the comms go offline and went charging in there to save them because he's brave and stupid and _Chuck_, she throws the door to the van open. She's actually already turning around to go back and save Chuck when she sees it:

Chuck is sitting in the back of the van, exactly where she left him. She blinks a couple times.

"What are you doing here?"

Chuck looks up at her with a vacant expression. "What do you mean?"

"The comms went dead. Weren't you worried?"

Chuck looks at her for another long moment before finally responding in an even voice, with a touch of resignation.

"You told me to stay in the car. I stayed in the car."

She nods automatically, and tries hard – so very hard – to not feel disappointed.

-o0o-

Casey disappears into his apartment, no doubt to finally enjoy some of the elixir that's eluded him all night. Chuck and Sarah go into their own apartment and start getting ready for bed.

"Disappointed?" he asks, unbuttoning his shirt and turning his back so she can get undressed.

He can swear he hears her head snap around, and she's quiet for a moment.

"What?"

"I asked if you were disappointed. About the office building. I know you were probably hoping it would get us back into action."

"Oh," she says, and doesn't really answer the question. She doesn't have to.

"We'll be back at it soon," he says, in a voice he hopes is light.

"I'm going to take a shower. I smell like stripper."

And she sounds so dejected that he can't leave it like that. Can't leave it alone. Maybe she doesn't need it, but he needs some kind of a bright spot. Some kind of a connection to her.

"What went on in that booth, anyway?"

He chances a look over his shoulder. She's in her robe, hair up in a ponytail, and the faintest hint of a smile is finally on her face. "Let us never speak of the booth," she says.

"You've got to admit, the typical male might find it kind of fascinating," he says, turning around now to face her, and her smile grows a bit. Relief washes over him.

"Good thing you're not a typical male," she says, tilting her head just a bit.

"I don't know," he smiles back. "You do tend to bring out the worst in me."

It's a gamble. It pays off. She smiles wide, remembering things the right way. He takes a step forward. She looks panicked for a second. He leans in close, and she absolutely freezes. He's got her.

"Is that the fresh scent of pineapple?"

Her eyes flicker, and she slaps his chest, looking exaggeratedly scandalized. "Do you call that never speaking of it, Chuck?" He laughs; she huffs dramatically, and stomps past him into the bathroom. A moment later the shower is running.

He thinks that maybe, just maybe, this could be enough for her after all.

* * *

_Is this the first fic to feature Sarah getting a lap dance? Please tell me this is the first fic to feature Sarah getting a lap dance. Because I so do love being a trailblazer. _

_John, take the keys because I can no longer be trusted to drive. _


	5. Flight Of The Mercedes

_**Doc's note**__ – The 'my two weeks' line was part of our kicking the idea back and forth. Sadly, we are not doing fourteen chapters for fourteen days. Mainly because I sucketh at keeping a time line. _

_This chapter is my last in this story. Fear not, Nick has the last laugh. I only just have to come up with something to (at the very least) equal Sarah getting a lap dance. A twenty minute lap dance….._

_Mommy, what's a 'lap dance?' _

* * *

**Chuck vs Lockdown**

– **AKA –**

**My Two Weeks Living With Sarah**

.

– Chapter five –

The Flight Of The Mercedes

.

_**ABALEMMA **__(n.) – The agonizing situation in which there is only one possible decision but you still can't take it._

_Douglas Adams & John Lloyd – The Deeper Meaning Of Liff. Pan Books and Faber & Faber, 1990._

.

* * *

"Tell me again, how it is we came to be, being chased by both henchmen, and LA's finest in a car we stole from the Moldavian ambassador?"

"Casey, just try to get back onto the freeway."

Casey stared over his shoulder at Chuck long enough for Chuck to begin to worry about oncoming traffic before Casey said seemingly calmly, "Because a police chase on the freeway always works out, right, Oh Jay?"

Chuck pointed, with only a slight tremble, at the windshield. Casey swerved around the minivan full of kids without removing the hot glare away from Chuck.

Chuck looked over his shoulder, back at the van. And then back at Casey. "Some say, he's afraid of ducks….." Chuck muttered.

She glanced back at him from the shotgun seat. Was that the hint of a smile? He hoped so. It had been a while since he'd seen that gleam in her eyes.

Chuck had sort of always assumed that Moldavia was a made up country, the sort that television executives use to avoid upsetting countries like Costa Gravas. It turned out that they were real, and even had an embassy in Los Angeles. Chuck contemplated the concept of paying attention to the news and world events a tad more.

Nah. That was what he had Sarah for.

The ambassador's large Mercedes Benz had heaps of room in the back. Chuck had plenty of leg room for once.

Having diplomatic plates didn't stop the police from chasing them though.

-o0o-

**Approximately ten minutes (and seven miles) previously:**

Casey had grunted something that may have been interpreted as, "Stay here, idiot."

Sarah looked like she was sad about something, and said in a flat tone, "Stay in the car, Chuck." She didn't bother to make eye contact with him like she normally did, when saying those words.

It had driven Chuck to distraction to stay in the van on the previous missions. But he had. He'd even mustered the strength of will not to sit there, itching to get out of his seat, like a dog that's just seen a bouncing ball, while sitting in the jalapeno patch.

Chuck was stuck on the horns of a dilemma. He wanted to have a happy Sarah. He'd promised to stay in the car. And he had! And then Sarah wasn't happy. But leaving the car to try and help would just lead to more yelling.

Or worse, an angry freezing silence. Why was it so hard to figure out what women wanted? 'Cause if you ask them, that _always_ works well….

Either option led to ….. not the Sarah he wanted. Damned if he did. Damned if he didn't. How to make her happy…

Chuck sighed, and wished he knew what to do. He looked at the monitor, showing the scene just outside the van, and instinct told him what he had to do.

Grabbing a tranq pistol from the rack, he threw the door of the van open and shot the Moldavian henchman pointing a real gun with real bullets at Sarah. And at Casey. Chuck shot the baddie in the buttocks again.

Casey and Sarah stood, still with their hands up and then, both of them looked down at the unconscious henchman, and then up at Chuck. Henchman, one more time, and then back to Chuck. It was like a ballet.

"Hey, guys….."

"Chuck!"

"You moron!"

"…um, what?" Chuck was a little confused. He thought the rescue had gone pretty well. Why was she calling him a moron?

"Chuck," she said in a calmer tone, "this," she pointed to the man currently face down with a feathered dart (or two) sticking out of his ass, "is our contact. He's a double agent. He's acting as the ambassador's driver."

"But, but, but he was pointing a gun….."

"Security cameras, Chuck," was it wrong of Chuck to love the way she could say his name in that exasperated tone?

"Sorry. How was I to know?"

Casey took a break from frisking the unconscious double agent chauffer and said, "That would be why we leave you with a bowl of water and crack the window when we leave you in the car. I mean, van. Moron. Aha!" Casey held a small USB drive up to the street lights.

As Chuck moved to help Casey pick up the chauffer spy and drag him out of the road, they all heard a noise that made them stop immediately. It sounded horribly suspiciously like the side door to a Chevy Express slamming shut.

All by itself.

Once again, Sarah and Casey did their choreographed look at Chuck, then the van and then back to look at the last one who'd been in the van. That would have been Chuck.

After an awfully long awkward silence, Casey said in a tone that made Chuck suspect that he already knew the answer, "Pretty please, tell me you took the keys with you, moron."

"Um."

"Chuu-uck."

"Well, you parked on a slope. Of course the door was going to …." Chuck resisted the urge to hold his hands up, since it now felt like they wanted to point guns at him, and gestured to the van and said to Sarah, "Can you…..?"

Sarah sighed and said, "I'll pop the…."

It was roughly about then that the security guards turned up.

Evidently, they all brought their Uzi's with them.

A moment later, all three spies, and Chuck, were behind the ambassador's black Merc, using it as a shield. Sarah pointed to the unconscious member of their little quartette and said over the noise of the gun fire, "Check his pockets for keys."

"I know he's a double agent, but why would he have the keys to our van?" Chuck wanted to know.

Casey said between his clenched teeth, as he rummaged though the drugged-and-snoring agent's pockets, "Not our keys. The keys to…." Casey was successful, and held up an electronic key marked with the Mercedes logo. The large car made a chirrup and a soft thud as the hazard lights pulsed, "that."

Casey probably attracted the attention of the police cars when they turned up. Cops tend to notice it when you aim a luxury car at them.

-o0o-

Resolving the police, helicopter, ambassadorial bodyguard car chase (and ensuing media feeding frenzy) took just a single phone call.

Sadly, the call wasn't initiated from inside the Mercedes.

General Beckman rang first.

'_Corporal Casey….'_ came the tinny voice of the general as Casey had used hands free.

"Ma-am, that's Major….."

'_Are you sure? Why am I looking at video from seven news choppers of a car chase on the surface streets of Los Angeles?'_

Chuck thought she managed to make the word 'seven' sound like it was a personal affront.

"Ye….Um….About that, Ma-am. We've recovered the data from our mole."

'_Given that the exchange was organized four days ago, that is hardly surprising.'_ The sound of a one star general sighing was clearly audible, _'Very well, I'll call you back in a moment,'_ and she hung up.

Thunderous silence reigned in the cabin of the Merc, despite the sirens following them. Chuck noticed a momentary glance between Casey and Sarah.

The phone rang again. The voice of one D. Beckman came through the little speaker, _'Major Casey, you will rendezvous with the Special Weapons Tactical van. You will achieve this by your return to the freeway system and proceeding downtown. The SWAT team will surround you, and take you into custody. Keep in mind there will be media cameras recording the capture. Do you understand?_

"Yes general," said Casey.

The capture went as planned. It helps when the captors and captees are working to the same plan. The SWAT van (exactly the same sort of van that was used in the movie, Chuck noticed) pulled along side, and then one of the patrol cars behind them did a PIT maneuver on them. Chuck watched in horrified fascination as the large Mercedes did a three sixty with all the grace of an ice skater on Quaaludes. The world pivoted with a quiet dignity past the windshield.

After than, there was a lot of screaming, and cops with guns and rifles pointing them at them. Sarah made sure Chuck kept his face down so the TV cameras didn't see him.

"Sarah…. Why are we being hand cuffed? Didn't Beckman tell these guys we're on their side?"

"It's okay Chuck, this is for cover. The news helicopters need to see us taken into custody, and…."

-o0o-

The three of them walked into the courtyard of the apartment complex that housed Casa Bartowski. After Casey pealed off to head to his place, Chuck leaned over to Sarah, and said, "Sarah? I'm sorry I didn't stay in the van. I thought you were…."

For reasons Chuck didn't fully understand, she smiled briefly at her ground in front of her, and gave him an affectionate shoulder nudge as they walked past the fountain, saying, "It's okay, Chuck. I understand."

He opened the door and turned on the light. Ellie and Devon were both on night duty this week. He asked her, as she headed to their bedroom, "Sarah?"

"Mmm?"

"Why are you being nice?"

She stopped and looked back at him.

Sweat pricked suddenly at the back of his head and he said quickly while he still had control over the bass and treble of his own voice, "If I don't stay in the car, you yell at me. I stayed and you were quiet about it. This time I got out and tranqed someone I shouldn't have. You're not yelling at me. In fact if anything you look happ….."

He trailed off, because she had turned, and was now within striking distance. She stood still, and looked up at him, as if memorizing his face. After a while she said, "Before you, no one ever looked out for me," she tilted her head for a moment and gave him a frowny smile at the same time, "I never needed it, but no one looked out for me." She looked back up into his eyes and smiled briefly, like the sun passing between clouds, "And then we met. And you know that I'm trained, armed and fifty percent of the most violent people you know. And yet you still get out of the car to help."

She turned to fiddle with the fruit bowl on the table, and said quietly, "And I never knew how much I missed that until you stopped staying in the car." She sighed in resignation. She didn't know what to do.

For the first time in her life, she didn't know what to do. There was only one thing left to do. Tell the truth. "Chuck? I…. I…." she forced herself to look at him, "I don't think…. Chuck I can't do this any more."

"What do you mean…. Oh my god! Are…. Are you telling….. You're going to ask for reassignment? Sarah, no one can protect me like you. I don't care about the stupid rules. I want you. I need _you_, not some agency handler, you. I need Sarah Walker. Because I love her. You. I love you."

He paused, and stood a little straighter, as if a huge weight had been lifted, "I'm in love with you," and then he smiled, "I love you," he said as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

"Chuck….." she said almost in protest. "This isn't going the way I'd planned," she said to herself. And then she squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye. He deserved that, at least. "I never meant for this, any of this to happen. But it did, and we have to deal with it….."

"Sarah," Chuck said, more forcefully than normal, "You can't go. I'm not gonna let you…."

"Chuck!" she interrupted angrily, "Shut up you idiot! I love you too! But you won't let me finish…."

"You love me?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper, as if he was afraid he'd disturb the moment.

"…You blind, idiotic, moronic, stupid….."

Chuck recognized that the moment had been disturbed, "Wow, it's like Casey is in the room with us."

"….moron! Of course I love you! I've loved you ever since….mm."

Chuck had silenced her in the only manner he knew, hold her face, apply lips and wait. After a moment, she responded. And then her body pressed itself tightly to his. Eventually they parted, but kept body contact. When he could speak normally, he said, smirking slightly, "You know, you ruined this. I had it all planned out. You'd say it, and I'd come back with Han Solo's 'I know.'"

"You had this," she waived her hand as if to indicate the past year and a bit, "All of this, planned out? Chuck, if your plans take this long to come to fruition, you have problems."

Chuck gazed down at the woman who fit so perfectly in his arms, and considered the situation. "I'll live," he decided with a grin.

She dragged him down to her level, and kissed him. When she let him go, she said, "Good, and just so you know, I've scuba dived when there were sharks in the water with me, I flown a plane that ran out of fuel, and also put down on a small grass strip, in the rain. But this is flat out the scariest thing I've ever done."

He looked down at her, pride glowing from every visible surface. He smiled as he said, "You do know you're the coolest girlfriend on the planet. You've swum with sharks."

She struggled slightly in his arms until he distracted her again.

-o0o-

* * *

_Ladies and gentlemen, my humble apologies about the empty chapter the other day. __I now give you the final chapter of Lockdown, presented to you by ne71. Nick, take it away, big guy._


	6. Unlocked

**Chuck vs Lockdown**  
**- AKA -**  
**My Two Weeks Living With Sarah**  
**Chapter 6**  
**Unlocked**

As the haze of sleep gave way to consciousness, Chuck willed his eyes to remain shut and steeled himself for what he was about to see. Slowly, hesitantly, he opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling. Taking in a deep breath, he finally turned his head and looked next to him.

Sarah wasn't there.

Chuck took a moment to inventory everything he'd eaten the night before, because if he'd dreamt last night's… activities, the only explanation for the detail, frequency, and… variety… would have been some very high quality bleu cheese. Finding no such item in his recollection, Chuck could only chalk up the dreams to the desperate longing he'd been feeling for Sarah since she'd moved in. Chuck reached out with a hand and touched the pillow next to him, wishing once again.

And then Sarah walked in wearing one of his shirts.

"You're up," she said brightly, then looked at his hand just as it stopped caressing the fabric. "And you're fondling my pillow."

Chuck snapped his hand back down to his side. "Um."

"What were you just doing?"

"Nothing."

"Yes you were." Sarah stepped closer to the bed and smiled. "In fact, if I had to guess, I'd say you were having one of those dramatic moments where you gaze longingly at the empty space next to you and wish that the girl you loved was there."

"I…"

Sarah kneeled on the bed, leaning over Chuck, her blonde hair drifting off her shoulders and caressing his face. "You were thinking it was a dream, weren't you?"

Chuck blinked a few times. "How did you—"

"Because," Sarah interrupted, kissing him softly. When she broke the kiss, she lowered her voice to a gentle whisper. "I thought the same thing when I woke up."

-o0o-

Three variations later, Chuck stumbled out of the bedroom to discover the reason for Sarah's earlier absence in the form of an enormous breakfast on the kitchen counter. He smiled crookedly at Sarah, following behind him.

"You could have told me breakfast was getting cold. I would have stopped."

"That's why I didn't tell you."

Chuck wrapped an arm around Sarah's waist and pressed a kiss to her neck. "Thank you."

Sarah hummed approvingly at the contact. "If you keep doing that, the eggs are going to expire."

"So, so many jokes I can make with that."

Sarah laughed and swatted him on the shoulder. "Go eat."

They both helped themselves to a heaping plate of food and sat at the counter. Sarah looked around, puzzled. "So, do Ellie and Devon still live here?" she asked.

Chuck looked around as well. "I know, right?"

"Where have they been? You'd think we'd have run into them more often."

"I remember something about a protein shake from two weeks ago, but since then it's like they've just vanished."

"Very odd."

"Yeah, it's kind of weird, isn't it?"

"Seriously weird."

"It's almost as if they were written out of a story but the writers never clarified how."

"You're an unusual man."

"I won't argue that."

Sarah popped a piece of bacon into her mouth. "There's a briefing with Beckman in an hour," she said. "We need to talk about Casey."

-o0o-

An hour later, Chuck and Sarah stood at Casey's door. Sarah turned to Chuck. "Okay. We clear on the plan?"

"Deflect, deny, defuse," Chuck responded.

"Good boy," Sarah said, knocking on the door. A moment later, it opened, and Casey ushered them inside. Once the door was shut, Casey looked back and forth at the two of them.

"About time."

Chuck and Sarah looked at each other and then back at Casey, both with attempted expressions of confusion on their faces. Sarah was more successful.

"What are you talking about?" she asked casually.

"Really?" Casey asked, cocking his head. "We're gonna do this?"

Sarah shrugged, nonchalant. Casey looked over at Chuck, whose eyes were starting to bug out. "What's with you, Bartowski?"

Chuck shrugged. Casey leaned in closer and squinted at him. "Something on your mind, Chuck?"

Chuck took a deep breath, turned to Sarah, saw her threatening look, and turned back to Casey. He shook his head. Casey leaned in even closer.

"Go ahead and say it, moron."

"SARAH AND I HAD SEX AND NOW WE ARE IN LOVE."

Sarah slapped her palm up to her forehead. Chuck slumped with relief as Casey stood up straight again. "Now, was that so hard?"

"You have no idea," Chuck breathed.

"Casey, you can't tell—" Casey silenced Sarah with a wave of his hand.

"Spare me the drama, Walker; I hit my monthly quota with the geek's outburst."

"Nerd," Chuck muttered under his breath. Casey ignored him and continued.

"I meant it when I said it was about time. One more day of you two mooning over each other like lost puppies and I would have bitten a cyanide capsule."

Chuck opened his mouth to ask Sarah a question, but she answered before he could speak. "Yes, of _course_ he actually has those."

"Just keep it out of the missions and you won't have anything to worry about from me. Deal?"

Chuck and Sarah stared in shock at Casey for a moment. Casey rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know. Casey has a soul."

"That's exactly what I was going to say," Chuck breathed.

The conference screen flickered to life, and General Beckman appeared before them. Casey stood at attention, Sarah turned to face the screen, and Chuck reached to adjust the necktie he wasn't wearing.

"Major Casey—"

"Ah, good," Chuck said, laughing nervously. "—I thought maybe you were serious about the Corporal thing. That's a relief." Casey glared at him as Beckman leveled a cold look. "Because that's a long way down from Major," Chuck continued, weakly. "Or so I hear. I don't really know much about military rank, at least not from branch to branch—"

"Mr. Bartowski, do be quiet," Beckman sighed.

"Gladly," Chuck replied.

"As I was saying. Major Casey, Agent Walker, Mr. Bartowski, I have good news. Our analysts have determined, based on intel from the field, that the Intersect's identity has not been compromised. Accordingly, you have been returned to full active duty." All three visibly relaxed and failed to hide a smile. "I thought you'd be happy to hear that," Beckman continued. "Agent Walker, you are relieved from your full-time surveillance, and may return to your previous accommodations. Major Casey will resume his surveillance of the Asset."

Casey nodded. "Yes, Ma'am."

Sarah stepped forward. "Actually, General, I have a suggestion." Beckman looked to Sarah. "Considering the length of time I've been posing as the Asset's girlfriend, it would draw suspicion at this point if I were to move back out of the apartment. I believe a more prudent course of action would be for me to remain on full-time surveillance. This would provide a stronger cover story to the civilians involved, free up Major Casey from overnight surveillance, and reduce overhead by removing the need for my hotel room."

Beckman nodded, considering the proposal. "And you're prepared for a permanent increase in responsibility, Agent Walker?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Sarah replied. "I believe it's the most prudent course of action."

Beckman tapped her chin. "Very well. Major Casey's surveillance will fall to backup status, and you will remain on primary. Once you're moved out of your hotel room, you may release it. And one more thing."

Sarah shifted uncomfortably. "Yes, General?"

"It's about time." Beckman terminated the connection. The three stood for a long moment, staring at the blank screen. Sarah's eyes opened wide. Chuck turned to Casey.

"Did she say it was about time?" he asked.

"I'd have to replay the recording to be positive, but I'd swear that's what she said," Casey answered. Sarah started to shift from foot to foot.

"I… I think Beckman just implied that she was okay with it. Is that what she was saying? Because that's what I think she said." Sarah started moving faster, bouncing a bit as she moved her feet.

Casey scratched his head. "Sure as hell sounded like it," he said.

"That's basically the last thing I thought she was going to say. I'd be less surprised if she started singing Journey ballads."

"I like Journey."

"I wasn't saying that would be a bad thing. Just surprising."

Sarah balled her hands into fists and shook them, not exactly in time with her foot movements. Her entire body was shaking.

"It wouldn't kill you to expand your music library past those annoyingly introspective whiner songs, you know."

"Okay, seriously, I never said there was anything wrong with Journey. Just that breaking out into their top ten hits is not predictable behavior for a Brigadier General."

Sarah's vibrations finally hit a sort of resonant frequency, and she let out a ear-splitting squeal. Chuck and Casey both whipped their heads around to gape at her. The noise continued far past normal lung capacity, until finally the room was silent again.

"Did… did Sarah Walker just squee?" Chuck whispered to Casey. Before Casey could respond, Sarah started talking excitedly.

"Oh, my god! Oh, my god! Oh, my god! Did you hear that?" Sarah started jumping up and down, clapping her hands. "Beckman's okay with it! Casey's okay with it! We're going to move in together for real! This is totally the best day ever!"

"Perfectly good CIA agent, and you broke her," Casey growled. "Nice going, Bartowski."

Chuck shrugged. "Thanks?"

Sarah ran over to the door. "I'm going to find Ellie and tell her. We're going to need to go shopping. Oh, my god, I'm gonna go shopping with my boyfriend's sister! I've never done that before! Look, Chuck! I'm a boyfriend's sister shopping trip virgin!" Sarah spun around in a circle.

Chuck looked over at Casey's mortified expression and turned back to Sarah. "Honey, neither one of us really seem to understand what's going on right now."

Sarah huffed and shook her head. "Men." She brightened again. "Oh, look! A 'men are clueless' joke! I'm a real girl now!"

Chuck leaned in closer to Casey. "Should… should we tranq her?" he whispered under his breath.

"I don't think it would stop her," Casey replied.

"Okay, I'm gonna go get Ellie, and we're gonna go shopping. I need apartment stuff. Like an eggbeater. Ellie probably has one but I want to get one of my own. Oh, and drapes! Yours are pretty ugly, Chuck. Drapes and a fluffy comforter. I'll get some paper, and make a list, and when I get back from shopping we're going to have a ton of sex."

Casey winced and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I can't _know_ that."

Chuck's eyebrows shot up and he smiled a crooked grin. "I could stand to hear a little more."

Sarah opened the door, blew Chuck a kiss and skipped outside. The door slammed shut behind her, leaving the two men alone in the apartment. They stood, stunned, for a moment. Finally Chuck broke the silence.

"Well…"

"Yeah."

"That was unexpected."

"I didn't see it coming, no."

"Thanks for… you know, being supportive of—"

"Don't mention it. That's actually an order; I do not want you to ever mention me being supportive of you or anyone else ever again."

"Roger that." Chuck walked to the door, opened it a crack and peeked out.

"What are you doing?" Casey asked.

"I'm a little afraid of her at the moment," Chuck said. As if on cue, a high-frequency squeal emitted from the Bartowski apartment. "Looks like my sister just heard the good news," he sighed.

Casey grabbed a pair of glasses and a bottle of scotch. "We'll hide out here for a while," he said.

-o0o-

That night, Chuck looked down at Sarah's sleeping form and tried to identify the unusual sensation he was experiencing. It was something familiar, something he could vaguely remember from a long time ago. Something that had been missing in his life for a very long time.

It was the feeling he remembered from childhood moments, like meeting a new friend at school who liked all the same movies he did and thought putting together a box full of secrets was brilliant. Or finding the perfect spot on the beach to get away from the world and make great plans for the future. Or coming across a girl who thought he was funny and wonderful and having her kiss him on a Ferris wheel.

All of those moments, those bursts of enthusiasm and anticipation, had left him years before. They'd died off when Bryce had him kicked out of Stanford. Since then, life had been a series of obligations and disappointments – working at the Buy More to make ends meet, falling into indentured servitude for the government, and of course trying to tamp down the emotions he had for the girl he loved. Chuck had gone from embracing life to simply waiting to see what was going to happen next and dreading the outcome.

But now, watching Sarah sleep, knowing that she loved him and would do anything to keep him safe, Chuck felt that unusual sensation again. And he knew what it was. After all this time, and with those three simple words, Sarah Walker had brought back Chuck Bartowski's ability to hope.

Chuck rose slowly out of bed, careful not to disturb Sarah. She rolled over gently in her sleep, mumbling something under her breath, the ghost of a smile on her face. Chuck smiled back, and then forced himself to move away. He sat down at his computer and started typing.

-o0o-

Sarah stirred awake and looked over at Chuck's empty spot on the bed. She sat up slowly, placing a hand on the cold mattress.

"Did you think it was a dream?"

Sarah looked over at Chuck, smirking at her from his computer chair, and smirked back. "Touché," she said. "What are you doing? Come back to bed."

"I had some ideas," Chuck replied, turning back to the keyboard and typing a few more words before pausing again. "Some things I wanted to get down before I forgot them."

"Like what?"

Chuck took a deep breath, and swiveled his chair to face Sarah. "I want to try and find Orion," he said, determined.

"Okay," Sarah said.

"Because I think he's critical to—wait, what?"

"I said okay," Sarah said, sitting up fully and leaning forward. "If you want to find Orion, then let's find Orion. I'm with you."

Chuck smiled as wide as Sarah had ever seen, so she said it again, smiling back. "I'm with you, Chuck."

At that, the floodgates opened. Chuck leaned forward in his chair, mimicking Sarah's posture. "I've been thinking about the Intersect," he said excitedly. "It's just information, right? Well, that's what _all_ knowledge is, really – information. So, taking that into consideration, why couldn't a new version of it be created – one with, say, languages. You need me to interpret what the Count of Transburbankylvania is saying? Just upload the language pack, and—"

"Wait," Sarah interrupted, furrowing her brow. "You're talking about updating the Intersect? What about removing it? Isn't that why you wanted to find Orion in the first place?"

"It was," Chuck nodded. "At first. But it occurred to me tonight that I've been thinking about it the wrong way. This thing in my head… it's a gift, not a curse. We've done some really amazing things, the three of us. And I like to think that the world is safer because of us."

"You think right."

"Well, that was all done while I had one foot in and one foot out. I've been spending all my time thinking about how to get my old life back instead of thinking about how to make this life work in the best way possible. And now I know. It's with the Intersect. It's with you."

Sarah's mouth dropped open. "So… so you want to stay in the spy life? You want to keep going?"

"I want to keep going," Chuck answered. "I want to be better at it. I want to give it everything I've got."

Sarah paused for a moment, shaking her head in wonder. "Wow," she said, wide-eyed. "I am _amazing_ in bed."

Chuck cocked his head. "Seriously? That's what you're taking away from my revelation?"

"It's the most obvious deduction."

"How do you get 'amazing in bed' from me wanting to create a new version of the Intersect?"

Sarah shrugged. "Well, let's look at the facts, Chuck. Two days ago, you were desperate to get away from the spy life. Today you're going at it full-tilt. What happened in between? Two nights of passion with me. There's really only one logical conclusion."

"You're cheapening what could be an outstanding moment, Sarah."

"That's not a denial."

"I'm coming over there, and I'm going to focus all my finger dexterity on your left big toe."

Sarah's face registered exaggerated shock. "You said you'd never use that knowledge for evil," she said in a mock-serious tone.

"Depends on your definition of evil," Chuck said, smiling.

"Tell me more," she said. "Tell me what you want to do."

Chuck's eyes lit up. Sarah felt a jolt at that; at seeing this version of Chuck, excited and full of plans and ideas. "We'd need to sell Beckman on the idea," he said. "But I don't think that would be too hard. If we can get in touch with Orion, bring him out of the cold, get him to start working on the Intersect again, we could do just about anything with it. And if we do it right, I wouldn't have to stay in the car anymore. We could upload me with weapons training, reconnaissance techniques, and maybe I could even take some martial arts lessons, learn how to defend myself…"

"Couldn't you upload that stuff into the Intersect, too?" Sarah asked.

Chuck's brow furrowed. "I don't know," he said. "That's more than information, isn't it? It's reflexes, movements, muscle memory…"

"But that's just it," Sarah said. "Isn't muscle memory just another form of information? You could do motion capture like from that documentary you showed me about the movie with the little elf guys."

Chuck frowned thoughtfully. "Are you talking about Lord of the Rings?"

"Yeah, the elf movie," Sarah said, waving her hand dismissively. Chuck grimaced but listened as Sarah continued. "They had the actor who played the computer generated character making the movements, and then they had the computer make the character move the same way. Couldn't you do the same thing with martial arts?"

Chuck let that sink in, before finally whispering in awe: "That's brilliant. You're a genius."

Sarah nodded. "And amazing in bed."

"And amazing in bed!" Chuck enthused. "You're like, the best woman ever!"

Sarah laughed, and then just savored the moment. The electric sensation of sharing these ideas with Chuck, feeling like they were really accomplishing something, moving forward instead of sitting in limbo. Sarah was torn between wanting this moment to last forever and wanting to see what came next.

"I want to do this, Sarah," Chuck said, an edge to his voice she'd never heard before. "I mean, really do this. I want to make a difference, and I believe that together – you, and me, and Casey - we can do that. We can change things. We can stop Fulcrum. We can stop anyone out there who wants to hurt people, who wants to profit from that pain."

Sarah stared at Chuck for a long moment. Well, that made the decision. She wanted to see what came next.

Sarah crawled out of bed, moved over to where Chuck was sitting, and straddled his lap. She placed a hand on each side of his head and looked right into his eyes.

If she'd had to be honest with herself, there was a tiny part of her that was disappointed - a little sliver of herself that had, in unguarded moments, imagined a life with Chuck that didn't involve the spy world. A life where he was free of the Intersect, and she was free of the CIA, and they were just a couple in love. A life with a little white house and kids and movie nights.

But in that moment, Sarah felt for the first time the possibility that her life in the Agency was something other than an escape from her past. For all of the successful missions, for all of Bryce's headstrong determination, for every one of Casey's abbreviated speeches about the "greater good," she'd never felt like anything more than an interchangeable cog in a machine. She'd never felt indispensible before now.

Now, she had Chuck. And Chuck had her. And she could feel it; she could feel herself becoming stronger because of him. And she felt daring enough to let herself know that his decision, his energy, his newfound drive was because of her.

Together they were going to stop Fulcrum and anyone else in line behind them. Together they were going to accomplish great things. Together they were going to be unstoppable. Because maybe she didn't really believe in the CIA. Maybe she didn't really believe in the greater good. But she believed in Chuck Bartowski. She leaned down, kissed him passionately, and looked into his eyes again, humming with energy.

"Then let's go get 'em, Chuck," she finally said, smiling.

"Let's get 'em all."

* * *

_That's – as they say – all there is, folks. Thanks to everyone who read, and extra special triple thanks to everyone who reviewed._

_When I asked John if he wanted to write something together, his response was basically "Sure, what would you like to write?" To which I responded "Uhhh…" _

_John came up with the idea for "Lockdown," and the method we were going to use – we had a general idea of what each chapter was going to be, but didn't know anything specific about the chapter until it hit the site. _

_So, each chapter is one writer's response to the surprises the previous chapter's writer had up his sleeve. That alone made it a ton of fun to write this. But most of all, for me, the real fun is that **Doc in Oz** is one of my favorite writers on this site and I got to create something with him. So John, thanks so much for agreeing to do this. _

_Finally, a challenge to the readers: Doc came up with a theme for the first five chapters that we tried to follow as best we could. I asked if we should be obvious about it, and he said that we should let the readers sort it out on their own. _

_So, the first person who figures out what the theme of the first five chapters of Lockdown was gets a personal "Chuck" story from me. You pick the characters and the situation, and I'll write it. If you're a guest reviewer, you'll have to put your idea into your review because I'll have no other way to contact you. There you go, folks. Never let it be said that I'm above bribery. _

_Thanks again for reading. _

_Nick_


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